


Billions of Colors

by fhsa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-05
Updated: 2004-08-05
Packaged: 2019-02-05 14:15:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12796263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: CLex on the Fourth of July.





	Billions of Colors

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

Author's note: This is for Ames, who's been on the sick list. Hugs and smooches, sweetie. And, I really hope I've gotten my 'lays' and 'lies' right. :) 

 

*************************************************** 

 

Lex had attended plenty of Independence Day celebrations. 

 

As a child, the holiday had usually been spent at a randomly chosen Luthorcorp plant, standing with his parents on a podium done up with red, white and blue bunting, little flag pin in his lapel, watching his father smile benevolently down upon his employees. 

 

Lionel's speeches would dutifully extoll the virtues of living in the greatest country in the world, while subtly reminding the crowd of their duty to give back to Luthorcorp and America. In that order. 

 

During his teen-age years, home from boarding school for the summers, he'd usually managed to dodge his father's watchful minions long enough to celebrate in typically rebellious fashion, progressing each year to a more dangerous mix of booze, drugs and whores, the best that money could buy. 

 

And, even though, most times, he would forget which holiday he was supposed to be celebrating, it was all good. 

 

Graduation from college effectively put an end to that sort of revelry, when Lionel decided the time had come to rein in his heir and give him his own podium from which to spout the Luthor creed. 

 

Thus, Smallville. 

 

This is Lex's second Independence Day celebration as head of the local Luthorcorp plant. The first one had definitely not been a good time. 

 

Then, Lex had still been somewhat of a pariah in Smallville. Stepping into Lionel Luthor's shoes had meant automatically inheriting an assload of enemies and battling the worst sort of karma and Lex had been prepared for that. He'd known the good people of Smallville would look on him as evil incarnate. He'd known he wouldn't fit in here. He'd known they wouldn't trust him. 

 

What he hadn't known was that it would matter so much. 

 

That first Independence Day celebration had been an eye-opener. A picture of rural America, complete with farmer's market, craft booths, a carnival and, of course, the requisite fireworks. 

 

Lex had shaken more hands, kissed more babies, and eaten more pieces of apple pie than a presidential candidate. 

 

Not only that day, but during the days and months that followed, he'd kept it up, doing everything in his power to erase the bad taste of Lionel Luthor from the mouths of the Smallville citizenry. 

 

If he couldn't convince himself that he wasn't his father, at least he could make the people in his adopted town think so. 

 

The celebration this year was the same as last year, and the year before that and the year before that. Same farmer's market. Same craft booths. Same apple pies. 

 

Only, to Lex, it was better. Bigger, sharper, brighter, more. He'd missed the better part of the day, held up in Metropolis by unforeseen helicopter mainentance issues for which heads would roll if he hadn't become such a kinder, gentler Luthor. 

 

He'd made it to Smallville by nightfall, though. In time to applaud Jonathon Kent's win in the horseshoe tournament, even though Kent the elder had shrugged it off like the macho man he was. 

 

In time to shake hands and kiss babies and sample pie. 

 

In time to kiss the cheek of a beaming Lana Lang as she was crowned Miss Independence Day. Probably for the tenth year running. 

 

In time to steal a gallon jug of Martha Kent's lemonade and her only son and sneak away for some quality celebrating of his own. 

 

They were close enough to hear the sounds of the carnival barkers, the laughter of kids under the influence of too much cotton candy, and the occasional errant firecracker in the background, but Lex was in another world. 

 

A world where it was okay to toss his coat and tie aside, stretch out on the grass, and to hell with his three thousand dollar suit. A world where a glass jar of icy lemonade...*just* lemonade...could taste better than the most expensive brandy money could buy. 

 

A world full of fireflies and summer lightning and the rise and fall of Clark's chest as he lay beside him, picking out constellations in the night sky. 

 

Which, of course, leads to a retelling of Greek myth because, after all, Lex is still Lex. It makes Clark laugh and lean over and kiss him quiet. 

 

After that, it's a heady mix of scent and touch and sound and taste that Lex will forever associate with this holiday. 

 

The sweet smell of the grass beneath them, the tangy taste of lemonade on Clark's tongue. The clean scent of laundry detergent in his tee shirt. Smooth cotton beneath Lex's hands and then just Clark, warm skin and sleek muscle and an impatience that takes Lex's breath away. 

 

Frantic whispers and low moans that Lex catches in his mouth. Popping sound of Lex's shirt buttons as they're sent flying off into the grass around them. 

Desperate, clumsy curses picked up from a high school locker room, and Lex thinks it's hotter than the most high-priced Scandinavian porn film ever made. 

Big, warm, strong hands that just take and take and to hell with technique and it makes Lex forget the English language. 

 

And, the fireworks in Times Square has got nothing on the explosion taking place right here, right now, on this little piece of Kansas hillside, and Lex sees stars and hears thunder and you'll never convince him that the earth doesn't move. 

 

Long minutes pass as they lay in the grass, boneless sprawl, chill of air passing over their sweat-slicked skin. Breath slowly regained. 

 

The silence is suddenly broken as bottle rockets explode overhead, lighting the night sky with a cascade of color. 

 

Lex reaches over to brush the hair from Clark's forehead, damp with sweat. Sleepy green eyes and a smile that could melt stone. Quick kiss and Lex lies back in the grass, his fingers linked with Clark's. 

 

Contentedly, he listens to the oohs and ahhs of his neighbors as the fireworks explode, showering his world with billions of colors.


End file.
